


Steady

by sallyamongpoison



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: Caleb is a nervous mess, Fjord is too smooth for his own good, Holding Hands, M/M, Mention of scars, widofjordvalentinesexchange
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-15
Updated: 2019-02-15
Packaged: 2019-10-28 19:15:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,986
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17793170
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sallyamongpoison/pseuds/sallyamongpoison
Summary: In which, late at night aboard the Ball Eater, Caleb goes to check on the Captain but gets more than he bargained for.





	Steady

The air was heavy against his skin, thick like soup, and hot. Unlike the others, Caleb hadn’t really acclimated to the southern heat. It probably didn’t help that he still dressed in layers, but that barrier between himself and the rest of the world had been comforting for way too long to change it now. He could feel sweat dripping down his back under his coat, could feel how damp his palms were inside his gloves, and it made holding the tray he carried that much more precarious across the rocking floor of the ship. This required a steady hand and steady legs that he didn’t quite have. He was trying, though. That was what counted.

The door to the Captain’s Quarters was pulled shut. That made sense. It was late. It was late, they were all tired, and it made little to no sense why Caleb was still up and doing. By all accounts he should have been passed out in his bunk, he’d tried to be, but there was something scratching at the back of his brain that wouldn’t let him calm down enough to close his eyes and sleep. Lying there in the thick air of the ship with that, like an itch he couldn’t scratch, would have driven him mad. So he got up. He got up, went to find where Mr. Clay was still up and tending to the crew’s food supply, and gathered up a bowl of something warm along with a mug of tea. Caleb didn’t ask what, or who, was in it, but had taken it with a small smile and set off on his way.

Unsteadily, he tried to balance the tray that held the bowl and cup, one hand lifted to knock at the thick wood that closed off Fjord’s room. The captain’s room. Fjord was Captain. He’d been captain for a while now, had taken up the role with as much finesse and authority as Caleb would have expected, but in these moments it still felt strange. Fjord commanded. And people listened. The Nein listened. They listened and they did whatever it took to see this journey through so that Fjord might come to know a little more about himself and these mysterious powers that he possessed.  They were fine with it. Caleb, too, was fine with it. He was there, wasn’t he? He was there, food and drink in hand, all because on some more primal and base level of his heart and mind...he was worried. Not even worried, actually. He was just, well, he was concerned. He was concerned for his friend. As he contemplated that he nearly missed the sound of heavy footfalls, and he startled a little as the door was pulled open.

There stood Fjord. Caleb had half expected to see him groggy from sleep. He’d half expected this to be an intrusion. What had possessed him to come down like this anyway? Surely Fjord was sleeping, right? But no. No, there he stood, out of his armor and more comfortable than usual, but still clear-eyed and awake at such a late hour. Caleb couldn’t even say that about himself. His eyes were probably a bit red and droopy from where he’d tried to sleep earlier, but couldn’t. They stared at each other for a long moment, and Caleb could almost feel the way Fjord’s gaze cut through the thick air to look him over.

“This is, uh, a surprise,” Fjord said finally, then took two steps back to open up the door a little more. It was an unspoken invitation, one that he freely gave, and Caleb ducked his head a bit as he resettled the tray in his grasp and moved inside.

“For me too, I think,” Caleb replied, then took a breath as he watched the door get pulled shut again. Now they were alone. Arguably, they were the most alone of anyone on the ship. This was the most private of places, as they’d found when Avantika still ran this thing, and they were there. Together. Alone. 

One of Fjord’s hands lifted and he gestured to Caleb’s hands, “Hungry, were we?”

He shook his head, “No, actually. Not...not, really. This was more for you.”

There was a moment where Fjord just blinked. Once. Twice. Three times. Then he cocked his head to the side, “You brought me dinner?”

“I did. You...we’re all pushing ourselves pretty hard these days, and I don’t think I’ve seen you sit down for a meal in a while. I just wanted to be sure you ate.”

It wasn’t like him and he knew it. Most anyone would know that while Caleb did care for the others his more demonstrative nature came out rarely for anyone but Nott. Caleb had never been the soup in bed type. Or coffee in the morning. Or anything, really. Yet there he was now, food in hand and a concerned look on his face, trying his damndest. He cared. He did. That something that wouldn’t leave the back of his mind was that feeling.

“You didn’t bring any for you,” Fjord pointed out, then reached out to take the tray so he could set it on the desk, “pretty sure I haven’t seen you eat in a few days either.”

“I’m not the captain, though.”

That earned him a chuckle, a shake of the head, and Fjord leaned back against the desk with his arms folded as he regarded the Caleb shaped figure that was still awkwardly standing in the middle of the room. This was how it always seemed to be: Caleb standing there not knowing what to do with his hands, and Fjord watching him with that same little amused smirk. Caleb never really knew what to do with that. All he knew was that it made his chest feel a bit tight. The way Fjord’s eyes crinkled at the edges when he smiled was damn near criminal. It was soft in a way that Caleb almost didn’t want to think of Fjord as. It made him...more reachable.  More like they were at a level playing field when Caleb really wanted to believe that was never the case. So he stood there, watched Fjord watch him, and shoved his hands in his pockets.

“Could share?” Fjord offered, and gestured to the meager meal again, “I mean, we might as well both have half and make sure the other eats. Since we’re doing that now.”

Caleb shook his head, “I’m not going to take half of your food. I brought it for you.”

A shrug, “Too bad,” Fjord said, “because I’m only eating half, and it would be a damn shame for Cad’s cooking to go to waste, right?”

Suddenly the rocking of the boat felt so much more pronounced. Caleb could feel his knees shake just a little, and he rocked backward before he caught himself. Why? Why though? Why did Fjord, after Caleb had gone to the trouble to check on him and maybe try to take care of him a little, have to double back and do the same? Why couldn’t he just accept what was given and not...not reciprocate? It made his cheeks burn and his hands clench into fists in his pockets. The air around him was suddenly heavier too, and it felt like his chest was being squeezed. It did nothing for the heat, either, and his body flushed with warmth. It was maddening, but it also made something in his stomach quiver.

“Why do you have to be so stubborn, Fjord?” Caleb asked softly. The room and the ship was quiet enough that he knew Fjord could hear him, but it came out nearly as a whisper.

Again, Fjord shrugged, “I figure if you’re gonna try to take care of me then I should at least try to do the same back.”

So they sat. They sat at the desk with that bowl of soup between them. They were close, too. Their knees knocked together as they tried to get comfortable, and while Caleb was more than happy to sit instead of stand to combat the rocking of the ship there was now the feeling of a body close to his that made him feel as though he would never right himself again. They passed the bowl between them, and even though Caleb knew that the food inside it was hot there was something in him that imagined that warmth that radiated from it came from Fjord’s hands. That if he held it the same way Fjord did that maybe he could feel the warmth of those hands against his own through the layer of cloth that still covered his palms. The thought itself was nice, but in the warm air it made his palms sweat even more.

“How’s your hand, by the way?” Fjord asked. It came out of nowhere, really. Or, Caleb supposed, maybe because their hands brushed every so often as they passed the bowl between them. His hand. His and Fjord’s hands. They’d both sliced open their palms not long ago, made a pact between them, and the evidence was still there. Not even Jester or Cad could heal them enough for there not to be a scar left.

Caleb passed the bowl back to Fjord after taking a sip from it, then looked down at his hands. The gloves he wore hid the skin underneath, but he knew the exact line of that scar. He’d studied it for hours once they’d gotten back on the ship and had been settled enough for him to do so. Something had compelled him to. Something in him made sure that he knew every millimeter of that mark on him. He had to wonder if Fjord had done the same. “It doesn’t hurt,” he answered, “if that’s what you want to know.”

“Not what I asked.”

“It’s a hand? Still fully capable of doing everything it did before.”

“You don’t regret it?” Fjord asked, and nodded toward Caleb’s hands, “what we...did?”

“I might have regretted it more if we had summoned a storm that would have sunk the ship,” Caleb said.

He flexed that hand. It was an involuntary motion. So much attention on it made him want to cover it, to hide it, just liked he always wanted to do when there was more attention on him than he liked. Maybe it was his imagination, too, but it was almost as though the scar was tingling. It wasn’t painful, not anything like that, but suddenly he was so very aware of it. And he was aware that Fjord was aware of it too. 

Then there was a hand reaching for his own. Caleb felt his eyes widen before he had a chance to put his expression in check, and the moment he felt warm fingers brush against his own his heart started to beat double. Gods help him, but he felt a little sick. That meager soup, the meal they’d shared, was rolling in his stomach. His breath came out in little pants as he watched Fjord’s fingers brush against the glove he wore, and after a moment to steady his nerves he looked upward to meet Fjord’s gaze. 

“Can I see?” he asked, “just...you know, for the sake of interest.”

“You’re a gentleman and a scholar now?” Caleb replied, and he was fighting to not pull his hand away. The tingle in that scar was growing by the second, and the warmth of Fjord’s fingers from both the bowl of soup and his own body heat was enough to make Caleb’s hand feel like he was holding a fireball in his palm. 

He didn’t fight it when Fjord carefully pulled the glove off. There was no reason to. Caleb had never felt that Fjord would ever actually hurt him, not even when the man had threatened him with his sword what felt like a lifetime ago, and he never had reason or cause to worry about it. Now, though, with the gentle and careful way strong fingers brushed against his palm it felt like pain in a fashion Caleb hadn’t known in years. It didn’t hurt in his hand. Not at all. He felt that hurt, that ache, deep down in his chest. It was like his sternum was vibrating to the rhythm his heartbeat set. Every thud reverberated in him until it sounded not unlike the thunder Fjord could summon. That storm was in him now, as it had seemed to be since they met, and Caleb’s fingers shook for it.

It was a long moment they stayed like that. Fjord was, as he’d said before, terribly interested in that scar. His fingers traced it back and forth what felt like a thousand times, and each time it sent a bolt of lightning along Caleb’s spine. This was, he had to admit, perhaps the most intimate thing that had happened to him in a long time. Even though they were both completely clothed and only connected at the one point, this still felt like something more. Something that wasn’t just concern. Every touch lit him up like fireworks, and it wasn’t until Fjord’s gaze met his again that Caleb realized he was clenching his jaw.

“You’re shaking,” Fjord said, then sat back a bit before he nodded back toward the doors that led out to the small balcony off the back of the room, “need some air?”

“Yes,” Caleb said without hesitation. Some air would clear his head. Air was good. Air would help to ease the simmering heat in his blood and the pounding in his chest. “That...yes, some air would be good.”

When he got to his feet he almost stumbled. Caleb’s knees knocked together, and that mixed the rocking of the ship had him all but on the floor. His head was spinning, light, and he swallowed hard as he righted himself and followed Fjord out of the room. The air out there wasn’t much warmer than inside, but the breeze at least made it feel a little fresher. Caleb could feel it blowing through his hair, and he closed his eyes as he leaned against the railing. Maybe this would ease the pounding in his chest. Maybe. Though probably not, as even now it felt like Fjord’s fingers still brushed his palm. There was no escaping it now, and Caleb had to wonder if that feeling would ever go away. What could replace it? Not even fire could burn away the feeling of Fjord’s fingers on his skin

They stood shoulder to shoulder. They were looking out at the expanse of dark sky and water, and in that moment both the ship and Caleb felt very small. It was true that he often tried to make himself appear small, but it was rare that he actually felt it. So often it felt like he was too much: too awkward, too conspicuous, too much of a target. Out here though, where very few or none of his worries could reach them, he felt small. It was freeing in a strange way. It was freeing to stand there with Fjord, body alight with sensation, and just be. They could just...be.

Caleb opened his mouth to say something. He didn’t know what might come out of it, but he was ready to say at least something. He was ready, but the words caught in his throat as Fjord lifted a hand to study his own palm. Caleb knew that hand. He knew it was the one that shared an eerily similar scar to the one on his own, and he tipped his head to the side a bit as he studied Fjord studying his own hand. Then he lifted his in a very similar way. What they were studying Caleb didn’t know, but looking down at it now it was as though he could map the pricks of lighting that still crawled across his skin. It was as though he could see it. He couldn’t, that was just his imagination, but he still could. 

“I don’t regret it either,” Fjord said, “just so you know.”

“I would have thought as much.”

“And I don’t regret that it was you. I don’t think anyone else would have, uh, understood.”

Ah. Yes. That much was true. So very true. Though they were like night and day in some respects, Fjord and Caleb were painfully alike in others. Many others. Just like now, standing there in a mirrored pose, they were so very different but so painfully alike. Caleb felt that pain, that ache, so deep inside himself that he just...he didn’t want to be alone in it anymore.

His hand, the one that sparked and flared with the imaginary heat and energy from Fjord’s touch before, moved and he clasped Fjord’s in it. Their palms pressed together, and the feeling of marred skin meeting marred skin made heat go up Caleb’s arm. They shared a long look, but Fjord made no moves to pull away. Neither did Caleb. Their hands, joined now with fingers laced, afforded them a shared heartbeat. Maybe between broken skin they could feel each others’ pulse. Maybe it was stupid. Maybe it was imaginary. Caleb, however, didn’t care at all. 

That hand steadied him, and for the first time since he’d gotten up from his bunk he didn’t feel that sway or that itch inside of him. Standing there, Fjord’s hand in his as they looked out on the ocean together, Caleb was sure. The heat didn’t bother him. The rocking didn’t bother him. Nothing did. All that mattered was the feeling of that heartbeat they shared now.

It had been late, and everyone had been tired, but they stayed awake. Fjord and Caleb stayed awake and stayed like that, hand in hand, until the sun came up over the ocean.

**Author's Note:**

> Hello Friendship!
> 
> It's been a second since I posted anything, but I decided to take part in the WidoFjord Valentine's Exchange! This was written for the lovely @sweetmilos for the prompt "holding hands."
> 
> You can always find me on Tumblr @sallyamongpoison


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